


Best horse in the stable

by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle)



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Non Consensual, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jo_Lasalle/pseuds/Jo%20Lasalle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kame and the new guy are requested for an aftershow special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best horse in the stable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Solo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solo/gifts).



> This was a birthday present for Solo's birthday in 2010. In 2012 it finally became a finished birthday present. >_>

It was only a matter of time.

Kame knows that, as certain as the door falling shut behind the two of them, as clear as the cold glass surfaces of the private lounge, and Akanishi stops just a little too close. He's always close.

It's that face. The old boss had eyes, and he let them wander, but in the end it all came back to Kame. The new boss has eyes, too, and new business interests, and no attachment to the old master's sentimentalities. So here they are. Sooner or later it was going to happen, and only a fool would think otherwise.

Akanishi doesn't look like a fool, but he doesn't seem too wise either, his breathing shallow, his eyes searching too long, too clearly out of his depth.

That face. Sooner or later it's going to get them all killed, if Akanishi doesn't get it under control.

The man's a new business partner. He watched their stage show from the VIP corner. Thinning hair and hard eyes, the kind that used to make Kame afraid, years ago. Two guards with him are in menacing black; two guards in the casino's grey and red.

This isn't too bad. Kame hasn't… had it much worse, but he's always expecting, never taking for granted, it's come in useful.

He steps forward, smiles for the both of them. Akanishi follows. He does that well enough, with the right kind of handling.

"Good evening, I'm Kazuya," he says. "I heard you enjoyed our performance tonight."

"I always do," the man says with a flattering glance. "I've been a fan for some time. But things have changed a bit with the new management."

"Sometimes you need a change," Kame smiles. The old boss was old-fashioned, it was all about favours. This is straight up money, investment. New management, breath of fresh air for the business, enticing new partners such as this one. And he's enticed for sure.

"I had no idea you were _that_ interested," Kame says, letting his voice drop. And he's rusty, surprised when it stings that the man's eyes skip past him at Akanishi, take a deep drink of appreciation.

On stage Akanishi's in the background. New. He hasn't earned the spotlight yet. But it's that face. The body's not too bad either.

"I didn't see _you_ last time," the man observes. Kame sees his fingers get restless on the arms of the leather chair.

"He's along for the ride," Kame says with a sly smile. He doesn't need this. Doesn't need an observer, doesn't need hangers-on that complicate things for him.

He turns to Akanishi, and finds him scared.

You don't look scared, ever.

Kame's thoughts slip, he doesn't _need_ this, things spinning out of his hands and that man's hungry eyes and all the others like him Kame has known, you never _know_.

Kame puts a hand on Akanishi's belly, skin on black shirt, clear for everyone to see.

Akanishi's focus jumps, slamming into Kame like that first time they locked eyes and since then Kame's had a shadow, watching him, learning, wide wide open. Always standing too close. Kame knows how Akanishi smells now and his nervous freeze and his voice, clear and restrained behind him.

"So we thought you might like another performance," he says, peering over his shoulder at the guest. "A more private performance." 

Akanishi gives him a probing stare, as if Kame picked any of this. But at least he asks no stupid questions.

Kame undresses him, with sure hands and knowing glances at their audience. Akanishi holds still when he has to, gives when Kame needs it. His eyes would be right there if Kame looked.

He sucks in a breath when Kame slides his pants down. It's so quiet you can hear every rustle of clothing, Kame kicking the black in black to the side.

He's a sight, no doubt about it, nothing to be done. Kame licks his lips and presses against him, and when he stops with that he finds their guest and his guards captivated, looking at him.

That's good. Kame is the main attraction. The boss dying on them doesn't change that. The new guy with a pretty face doesn't change that. Kame wants them to keep that in mind.

He gets them down. The floor is bare and cold but Kame's long past caring, floors are the most banal thing to mind. He kneels between Jin's legs and gets his own shirt off, feeling the power of how smooth he can make a strip. Something about other people's eyes on him makes him better. Even here. It just happens, he finds his role, a groove that fits him and pulls him along.

Jin turns him on. That helps. Kame's not immune to the face either, or that mouth. He sucks his fingers wet and imagines Jin doing it, Jin looking up at him just like this, and at the back of his neck he feels sweat and a shiver, gearing up before a high note.

Jin gives a gasp when Kame pushes two fingers inside him, his limbs tense and trembling. Kame can feel the attention shift, slipping off him treacherous like silk and he's got nothing, no time and he can't _ask_ , he can't _tell_ them because who sends virgins out for new business partners when they won't know what the fuck they're doing and are freezing up, shutting down.

He leans over Jin, almost too close, you don't want to look as if it's too private, as if you keep it to yourself.

Jin tastes of fear.

"Relax," Kame breathes, shifting his weight to open up the view, to show them he's hard, enjoying himself, stretching slow but insistent, and he presses his lips into Jin's neck because that makes him move, look more than dead. "Do this for me," he whispers before he pulls up, throws back his head, breathing harshly and loudly because Jin is such a sight and Kame wants to fuck him so badly.

He's always known when he's won the audience.

He gets in close, slides his hands under Jin's thighs and feels it ripple through Jin, Jin knows.

"Trust me," he whispers.

And Jin does. Kame feels it when it happens, Jin's legs easing, fear sinking from his eyes. Jin licks his lips and there's clarity there, understanding. Always too close. Just for a moment it blocks everything out, everything.

But Kame knows better. He pushes back his shoulders, showing off muscles he didn't have when he started here. He's got his audience.

Jin swallows but his hips tilt how Kame needs them to, and there's a blink when Kame pushes there, pushes inside.

It won't be nice. But Jin keeps his eyes on him, his stomach shuddering and stilling with sharp breaths; Jin doesn't fight or struggle and he's not absent either.

Kame's tense as a wire but Jin is looking at him and _they_ are all looking at him, and he arches his back and moans, because it's _good_ and because he looks good, he's so good he makes scared virgins lie back and spread their legs.

It courses through him as heat, power, even desire. Desire for more, with Jin like this, open to his touch.

But it would never work. Kame doesn't set himself up to fail.

He makes it last long enough, knows it's not about him. Jin gets tenser, uncomfortable, and Kame grips him hard and fucks him deep, all the noises his and his hands sweaty, slippery.

He's done. When he gets up, all eyes are on him, all of them. He's the prize.

The guest smiles at him, a deep smile full of meaning. His eyes would feel undressing and invasive if Kame was still wearing any clothes. Jin's on the floor, folded away to the side.

The man gestures Kame over.

Fine.

They go to the nicest room in the building and the guards are coming too, not allowed to stay behind and play with the leftovers.

It's not bad.

Later, when the guards get a turn after all and the guest enjoys another show, at least that's easy, a much easier role. He gets a tip, a large one. Drinks the good champagne that takes the edge off.

He runs into Koki down in the bowels of the casino, drinking at the rough wooden bar where they can soothe their nerves at the end of the day with drinks almost as good as those served above.

Koki looks him up and down like he wants to undress Kame too, catalogue all his stains and scars. Kame hates it.

"Where is he, did someone clean him up?" he asks.

"He's fine," Koki says with narrow eyes. "Showered and went to bed. I heard you went back for a special with the whole bunch."

Kame pours himself a hard clear brandy. It burns after the soft caress of the champagne. Burn is good.

Koki watches him knock back a second glass like he's got opinions and concerns too. "Why d'you go to all that trouble?"

Has Koki really _looked_ at Jin? "Because this will fuck him up. And then he'll be crying and complaining and pissing people off, and then we're all fucked." He slams the glass down and likes the noise, likes Koki's flinch. "Good night."

He showers in the small tiled room that's for them at the end of their corridor. Some of them don't like to shower alone because it's full of shadows and echoes, green mould making it look abandoned. Kame's never had a problem with alone. He can never get enough of alone.

He crawls into his room, into a corner of the bed, all the remaining lights on.

It's a good room. He just wishes it had a lock.

The old boss gave Kame furniture like nobody else has, a thick soft bed like in the rooms upstairs, an ornate desk that had only a few scratches, shining glass lamps that made the basement not matter. Kame was grateful.

His things are getting shabbier now. The rugs are worn from Kame moving, exhausting himself when he can't sleep, and there are bloodstains on the mattress from a damn nosebleed because they can't always wrangle sheets. One of the lamps blew out.

He's tired but restless. He should put his clothes back on, they're on limited supply, you can't throw everything in the wash just because you had to go fuck somebody.

He wonders if he should be dressed and ready, when he can't sleep. He doesn't know if there's going to be another call tonight, he doesn't know anything.

There's not that many calls. He shouldn't think like that, he shouldn't even _start_. These things are the exception.

He starts when there's a scratch at the door. Or a knock. Who knocks like that.

Kame stares at the door with his hands twitching, the sharp booze making his skin hot.

Jin pushes through a crack in the door. He wears grey pants, a grey undershirt. Waste of laundry. Figures.

"Sorry," he says. "I heard you got in."

"Yeah, I got in," Kame says. "What do you want?"

Jin shrugs. His hand is fumbling with the door knob. "See if you're okay?"

"And what could you do about it if I wasn't?" Kame says sharply. "I'm _fine_. Go to sleep."

Grey pants, all that skin underneath. Kame feels cold now. Jin looks soft and untouched, and god, why is he no good at taking Kame's orders now?

"You can't always be like this," Kame says. "You can't _stay_ like this."

Jin frowns; hesitates. "I know." Maybe he gets it, maybe he just pretends.

"And I can't always take the heat for you," he snaps, because Jin needs to get it into his head, he can't just _stay_ like this, wide-eyed and offering his trust like that and then be _floored_ when people want to fuck him when he… looks like that. "I won't," he threatens. "I might not be there." He crosses his arms, curls in his fingers until his nails bite and everything's steadier, everything's under control.

"I get that," Jin says quietly. "Thank you." He looks at Kame much too clearly, not at all like a stupid, helpless boy. "If there's ever anything I can do…"

The things Jin will end up doing. Walking around like a standing invitation.

"You could blow me some time," Kame suggests, just to see Jin flinch. He wants to see Jin's face when he has to deal with some reality because that's not even harsh, not even close to some of the language Jin would be well off to acquire. "When you've had some practice."

Jin doesn't flinch. He doesn't even lose that softness, for all the good it will do him. "If you'd like," he says. All the way over by the door, and still too close.

"Go sleep," Kame says hoarsely. "Shut the door."

Jin thinks about it like he's got a right to even think about it. "I'll see you tomorrow then," he says in the end, too close, too warm. Kame wants the burn of the brandy back, not this. "I'll be next door. Good night." The door pulls gently shut, and somehow it doesn't feel like Jin's taking an order, and Kame listens for each of his steps.

 

 

 


End file.
